You give me something
by AmyNY
Summary: Rory's sick. And as usual, Jess’s timing is all wrong. Lit. Post season 7.


**Title**: You give me something

**Summary**: Rory's sick. And as usual, Jess's timing is all wrong. Lit. Post season 7.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the CW or the Gilmore Girls, I don't even own season 6 and 7 dvds. The poor student life and all. Maybe one day I'll earn enought to actually buy the CW (or at least dvd sets) but 'till then I guess I don't own 'em.

**Timeline**: A few years after season 7, I guess.

_You only waited up for hours  
Just to spend a little time alone with me  
And I can say I've never bought you flowers  
I can't work out what they mean_

_I never thought that I'd love someone  
That was someone else's dream..._

_(__You Give Me Something by James Morrison)_

--

She was miserable. Completely and utterly miserable.

And she couldn't breathe.

Her nose felt ten times its actual size and for a moment she actually wished she didn't have to breathe at all because every time she tried to take a breath her nose would start running (again) and she'd be forced to reach for yet another Kleenex. And that implied actual sitting up and getting one from the kitchen or taking one of the numerous used ones that were spread out all over her bedside table but that was a little out there even for Rory Gilmore.

So she lied there in silence trying not to breathe much, which was ridiculous, she realized suppressing a giggle that ended up causing yet another coughing fit, penetrating the silence of their apartment at this early morning hour.

She glanced at the clock that read 2:30am in big red letters and groaned in frustration knowing that her options were either to actually get up and find the tissues or wake up a person sleeping next to her, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil, and ask him to get it for her. Choosing the former option with much difficulty, she pushed the covers of her body slowly not to disturb him and smiled seeing him automatically reach for her even in his sleep in search for some of the lost warmth.

Letting the covers fall right next to his sleeping form she stood up feeling a little lightheaded from the fever and the lack of food. (When he suggested they should go out for dinner yesterday she refused, saying she wasn't really hungry and besides she had some things to finish up for work. He looked at her in shock and stated half jokingly that either they would be facing an apocalypse really soon or she was coming down with something if she was rejecting food. She was a Gilmore after all. Only a couple of hours later she started sneezing and coughing and he immediately went to the nearest pharmacy returning with a bag full of aspirins and three different cough syrups. She spent the rest of the evening on his couch wrapped in two warm blankets and a cup of mint tea in hand as he called the restaurant to cancel the dinner reservations.)

After opening all five cabinets she gave up, concluding there were no tissues to be found in this house and therefore this whole little trip of hers was useless. As she turned to leave she saw that the light in the bathroom was on, illuminating the small hallway and for her it seemed like the light at the end of a dark sleep deprived tunnel.

She got there in record time grabbing the roll of toilet paper from the toilet cabinet as soon as she walked in and wiping her nose carefully because it was already starting to ache from being rubbed way to many times. Just as she was about to leave, toilet paper in hand, she caught her reflection in the small bathroom mirror. Not just did she feel miserable, she looked like it too.

Her hair was greasy, tied into a messy bun at the back of her head. Her nose looked puffy and reddish and just under her eyes there were dark circles. She looked so pale that she wanted to reach for her make up kit to put on some blush on her cheeks so she wouldn't get scared of her own reflection but decided against it due to the fact that it was three o'clock in the morning and she was going to bed.

So she turned around slowly walking down the hallway to her destination when a figure stepped in front of her making her almost jump in shock. Seconds later the hallway light came on and she punched the person standing next to her on the shoulder.

He winced audibly "Aw, what was that for?"

"I thought you were a burglar." She explained.

"But I turned the light on before you hit me. Didn't you see it was me?"

"Yeah…" she finally admitted "but you deserved it anyway for scaring me to death like that."

"Sorry about that." He apologized, standing there clad only in his jeans, which wasn't his usual sleeping attire, of course, but after returning from work and being there for her he was too tired to even try and find some more comfortable clothes and change.

"Sorry about your hand." She retorted, sniffling.

"Hey, I'm a tough guy, I can take a punch." He said with a shrug "Besides, you hit like a girl."

"That's because I _am_ one. And besides, I'm sick."

"Speaking of which, what are you doing up?" he questioned, looking at her but trying to hide the worry that was clearly written all over his face.

"I needed a Kleenex." was her brief explanation.

"You could've woken me up and I'd get it for you." he said glancing at the roll of paper in her right hand "And you do know there is an actual box full of tissues in the cabinet above the fridge, right?"

Of all the cabinets it had to be in the one she didn't check. That's just her luck. "Well, yeah I do but…" she lied "…I just thought bathroom was closer, that's all."

"Is that so?" he said coming closer, their faces mare inches away.

"Yeah." She answered, her eyes on his, daring him to say otherwise.

"You are a terrible liar Gilmore." He grinned, his hand moving to capture hers, their fingers intervening. It was one of those things he often did when they were alone and it never failed to make her smile because she never thought he was that kind of guy. Somehow, she found this more innocent act more intimate then the actual kissing, the way his intense eyes looked at hers, the way his left thumb traced gentle circles across her hand absently.

"Am not." She denied, pouting her lips.

"Are too. But that's alright, I love you anyway."

She sighed, raising an eyebrow "Don't I feel special?"

"Well you should."

"Right, because I have such a nice boyfriend who loves me despite all my flaws."

He nodded "How is it that that little speech goes…in good and bad, in sickness and in health…" he said, grinning.

"…in rich and poor…" she supplied, glancing around their small and humble looking apartment.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Not at all." She agreed.

"So…" he started "how would you feel about saying that in front of an actual guy that knows what he's saying, you know the one that wears that cool black robe?" he asked, half jokingly.

She tensed, looking at him and taking a small step back, their hands parting.

"Jess what are you saying?" she asked as she tried to keep her voice from quivering.

He looked at her as a nervous smile played on his lips and she knew. And then he pulled out a small diamond ring and kneeled down on one knee, as much as the narrow space allowed him, her wide blue eyes following his every movement in complete silence.

"I know that there should've been a box and all but I..." Yes, there should've been a box, but it was currently lying in the bottom drawer of his desk. He did have it all planned out though. Actually, he made them reservations for this exact evening at one of Rory's favorite restaurants and he even went as far as making reservations for them at a hotel and asking a good friend of his to go and set it all up with flowers and candles. But a couple of hours later he called that same friend to tell him it was all canceled (and no, she hasn't finally dumped his sorry ass, she was just sick).

And yeah, he was sorry, but not because he'd have to pay for all of that anyway (the reservations, the candles, flowers - white lilacs, her favorite...) but because he wanted it to be perfect for her. But this was one of those moments that didn't happen very often and when they did they'd knock you of your feet and make you appreciate them. So what if they weren't in some big fancy restaurant?

He was never the one for big romantic gestures anyways. But for her he wanted to be. And if that wasn't love he didn't know what was, romantic restaurant dinners be damned.

He just hopped that Lorelai wouldn't share the juicy details about this with her husband once Rory told her all about it. Who was he kidding really? Luke would have a field day with this. But then again at least he didn't end up being proposed by his girlfriend so guess he could live with it.

He was more than happy to put up with some teasing from his uncle if it meant he'd get to have her. He wanted to be with her every single day of his life, he wanted to be able to meet her in the half lit hallway at early morning hours for no good reason.

"You can't do that!" she exclaimed, kneeling down beside him and lowering his hand, but not letting go.

"Why not?"

"Because I look like Anna Nicole Smith before her third rehab, that's why. I can't get engaged looking like I just got out of a terrible car accident." She cried out, in full panic mode.

"Rory…" he started, trying to get her to calm down.

"No, I refuse to get engaged to you." She said, completely serious.

"So, what you're saying is that you don't wanna merry me?"

"No…" she shook her head "…it's just that someday I'll be telling a story of how we got engaged to my kids or some friends and I can't tell them this…I just…." She sighed, raising her hands up in frustration and then lowering them to wipe her nose one more time.

"In sickness and in health, remember?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and she couldn't not to smile.

"Jess…" she let out a breath. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to look so damn adorable when she was trying to be mad at him?

"This is the only time I'm doing this, there are no reruns." He informed her.

"Can I just…" she said moving away from him and hurrying to the bathroom. Not even five minutes later she returned her hair pulled down, falling freely over her slender shoulders. "Okay." She exhaled.

"What did you…" He asked confused by her actions, which was ridiculous because he thought he was used to her silly little quirks by now. And for the most part he was. In fact, he's never tell her but he found it quite amusing (and even endearing) when she got a panic attack over some article she was working on or even the choice of shoes for an important office meeting.

But right now he didn't feel like laughing at all, thinking this must be some revenge of hers for all those times he joked with her about her unreasonable behavior. And it wasn't amusing at all. It was torture.

"I just had to comb my hair." she explained, as if that was the most obvious thing you would do when a guy you've been in love with proposes to you.

"Oh." was all he managed to say, his mouth feeling too dry, dumfounded by her explanation "But you know I don't care about things like that."

"Yeah, yeah…can you just…." she said, gesturing for him to continue.

"Though it does help a lot." he added.

"Jess!" she shouted, hitting him playfully on the shoulder for the second time that evening.

"Okay, okay..." he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender "Rory Gilmore…will you be my wife?" he finally asked, holding his breath and kneeling between the bathroom and their bedroom in that makeshift hallway. He hasn't been this scared in his entire life, feeling like his whole future depended on the answer of a slender, blue eyed girl.

He thought he looked completely ridiculous and maybe even a little pathetic, but somehow he doesn't care about it, not even a little bit.

And she thought it was perfect.

"Yes." was all she said, a three letter word that allowed him to breathe again.

He let out a relieved sigh as she smiled and then he pulled her closer putting his left hand in her hair and kissing her on the lips. As he traced his other hand up her arm she felt herself shiver and she wasn't sure was it because of the fever or something entirely different, him.

A second later she pulled away from the kiss, feeling breathless.

"Don't do that." She said with a frown.

He sighed "What did I do now?"

"You kissed me. You could get sick too." She elaborated; her voice low and childlike. It made her sound a lot more like a five year old kid than a twenty five year old woman.

"I don't care. Besides I could use a few days off. And we could stay here…in bed…" he suggested pulling her just a little bit closer.

"…and drink a lot of fluids and eat chicken noodle soup." She added, feeling the warmth of his hands that were loosely wrapped around her back. She rested her hand on his chest, looking up at his dark brown eyes.

They were so close, her nose touching his, and she could feel the worth of his breath on her neck but yet somehow to her, they weren't close enough.

He moved a strand of her hair behind her ear gently and then his fingers moved a little lower, tracing a line down her neck, his voice dangerously low "Among other things." he teased, making her shiver, as he turned the lights off. At long last he pressed his lips on hers once again, making her blank out just how miserable she was feeling only an hour ago.

The end.


End file.
